time will show it's face
by catchmelikeacold
Summary: Strange things happen when Brendon gets clever ideas. Everyone's dark side can't be hidden forever. Supernatural themes. Suggestions of Dallon/Ryan and Ryden/Rydon however the Hell you want to spell it. For Qwert'. Because she appreciates Ryan and Brendon like no other.
1. Chapter 1

**Wednesday the 6th of June 2012.**

It was Wednesday when Brendon finally cracked. As usual the group were half-asleep in third period Geography, and as usual, Ryan was gazing out of the window across the playing fields. Ryan wondered if perhaps there was more to life than just grass and trees and people. This question was answered two Mondays ago when Brendon took them to the crater. "Them" being Ryan, Spencer, Jon and Dallon.

Anyway, that was Monday. Today is Wednesday, to be more specific, Geography. The lights were switched off, the projector was on, and it was projecting some boring shit about tectonic plates. Ryan's eyes couldn't resist sneaking over to the window, where a beautiful swirl of red and orange leaves flew past. Ryan smirked, the left corner of his lips teasing up into a half smile. The time was 12:34pm. Ryan's favourite time; one-two-three-four, a perfectly organised time, plus it meant six minutes until free period on Wednesdays. The half smile tipped into a full grin. Today was Wednesday, which meant an hour of Ryan's time wasted happily with his earphones in, and the sun beating down onto his closed eyelids. Going off-campus would be pointless as it was only an hour. Though with all the strange things that had been happening to Ryan, a little test of what he was really capable of became slightly tempting, the idea tasting delicious on his tongue. Suddenly there was a loud /bang!/. Ryan's grin faded into a small gasp at the noise, his brown hues tearing away from the window for just a moment to see the projector's image beginning to blur, and the projector itself sparking and whirring louder than what was considered normal. Half of the class hadn't even noticed yet, not until it caught fire anyway. Ryan's mind began to panic, and he couldn't even focus on the actual projector anymore. All he saw was Brendon staring intently at the large orange flames, a small yet hoarse chuckle escaping the back of his throat. By this point all of the students had noticed the large flames licking at the ceiling, and the teacher was ordering everyone to drop their things and leave the classroom. The fire alarm had been set off, and now with the loud noise in his ears and the heat and brightness of the flames, Ryan really could not focus at all. He stood and ran towards the door, throwing his hands up to clear himself a path. The desks are all thrown to opposite sides of the classroom, and he just carrys on through the wreckage. The door feels like a haven to him, reaching out with it's breathable air, it's safety. Ryan is almost there, almost to security. He feels himself being tugged at by invisible hands, right by the scruff of his shirt's neckline, and he jolts back. Stopped. Perhaps someone is in trouble, perhaps someone needs help, so he turns. Only to see Brendon with his fist clenched in Ryan's direction, looking down with his hair covering his facial expression. Brendon looks up and grins wickedly, throwing his right palm up towards the windows. Without even looking at them, they burst outwards, shattering completely. Ryan throws his left hand towards Brendon without thinking, his chest rising and falling heavily as the smoke begins to fill his lungs. His fist clenches, and he pulls. Brendon is torn away from the projector and the glass. He pulls him towards the door on an invisible rope, and embraces him as soon as he is close enough. Brendon is stiff and awkward, but eventually his shoulders begin to shake, and he collapses into Ryan's tight arms. Ryan looks up over Brendon's shoulder, only to see the video's picture on the wall begin to shrivel and burn.

With that, Ryan pulls back from Brendon and gazes into his dark eyes.  
"Stop, please Bren'"  
At the sound of his old nickname Brendon's shoulders hit the floor, and his dark, thick hair sweeps accross his forehead as a breeze passes between them. The flames are extinguished and Brendon collapses. Ryan catches him as he slides to the floor, his hand shaking over Brendon's face, and he cannot help a slight sob as he pushes Brendon's hair off his head and cradles him close. Ryan knew that sooner or later it would become too strong for him to control, and Brendon would succumb to it. As strong as Brendon's exterior is, he is weak on the inside. His tears drop onto Brendon's cheek. They are salty, thick, and they shine in the dim light, but not for long, for as soon as they reach his skin they evaporate into thin air.

Just then, the sprinklers go off. The water doesn't even touch Ryan nor Brendon, an invisible barrier that Ryan has created just causes it to fall around them. It is slow, sweet.

A melody of water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Friday the 8th of June 2012.**

It had been two days since the awful incident. Though only Ryan described it as awful. There they were, sat in Dallon's art room, casually strumming on the guitars that Dallon's dad left lying all over the place. Brendon was stretched out over the sofa, his arms gracing the top of the back rest. Ryan was giving Dallon a peice by peice account of exactly what had happened that day. Dallon hadn't witnessed the situation in that lesson as he had been off school because he had hurt his arm in a car accident. An accident that may have been Brendon's fault, not that he was ever going to let on to that fact. It wasn't his fault the car had started going beserk as soon as Brendon understood it. He sighs and his eyes shift to the ceiling, avoiding any form of eye contact with Dallon. Had he worked it out yet? Ryan and Dallon's words began to blur together until he could no longer understand what they were saying. He was totally zoned out of the conversation, and he had no intention of re-joining it, until Dallon's eyes grew wide and he turned to Brendon.

"You really shouldn't be using your powers like that Brendon." A look of concern dances across Dallon's face. "Did anybody guess it was you? Are you sure you were the one controlling it? Because Jon said the other day that his-"  
"I'm fine. I'm in control." Brendon held up his hands in defeat, and Dallon was silenced, gazing fearfully at Brendon's outstretched palms. This irked Brendon, as fear was for idiots, and if Dallon were afraid of him, why didn't he just try and run away? He might take Ryan. That's why. Ryan would run after him and try and create peace. He would go after Dallon first though. Brendon scowls at Dallon, about ready to throw a hurl of insults at him, when a gentle voice pipes up.  
"I just don't want you getting hurt." This came from Ryan, who looked as confident and fearless as ever. If Ryan was a lion, Dallon would be a butterfly. Soft, damagable.  
Brendon closes his eyes and stretches out again, Ryan always had such a way with him. He breathes in, and focuses his energy on what the room looks like from memory. The room is rectangular in shape. Large, spacious. Bright white walls. There are a lot of items in this room, but due to it's size the extensive quantity of items do not create mess. Brendon reaches out with his mind, touching each and every item. He assesses them and weighs them, analyses them and pictures every last detail. A large lamp, tall with a large cream fitting situated at the top. The art easel, wooden and sturdy. He feels every colour of paint that is smeared across the easel, traces every defined outline. His explorations take him to the roughness of the plaster wall, the brutality of the firm rug that graces the center of the room. Finally he reaches the acoustic guitar. He breathes. In and out, in and out. Slow and easy breaths. Easy. Eeeeasy. His fingertips grace the pale wood, tentatively at first - but then he starts to feel his way around properly. The guitar is large at its base, it becomes smaller, then a little larger again - an imperfect figure of eight. Finally, he reaches the slender neck of the guitar. The strings are rough, tuned to perfection. Brendon closes his mind's hands around the hilt of the guitar, and lifts it. The guitar is weightless. He lifts his arms out and reaches for the instrument, and the guitar falls lightly into his grasp. He gasps and lets go, but holds onto the guitar with his hands. He opens his eyes and looks over at Ryan, he is worn out, but yet he has enough energy to strum out a few notes. Ryan shakes his head.  
"You're good Brendon. You are so, _so _good." It's the simplest compliment in the entire world. Yet a beam stretches lazily across Brendon's face.  
"I am good aren't I?" He is proud of himself, until Dallon's stern gaze pulls him down.  
"You've been practicing." Brendon's shoulders casually rise and fall, expressing a clear disinterest in whatever Dallon has to say.  
"Yes." He sighs back into the comfort of the backrest and his fingers roll over the strings again.  
"You should really use a plectrum." Dallon looks angered, upset. He stands and limps over to the shelf near the large double doors, and grabs the first plectrum he sees. He throws it over his shoulder at Brendon, who stops it from hitting his face by simply holding up his hand. The plectrum is suspended in mid-air, mere millimetres from Brendon's outstretched palm. Brendon lets it fall slowly to the guitar, where it strums it all by itself. Brendon grins cheekily, which Ryan returns. Dallon, however, does not.  
"Lazy." He sighs and limps over to the large beanbag next to Ryan, who looks at him sypathetically. It makes Brendon sick.  
"You're just jealous. How was I supposed to know that your leg breaking meant your powers went away?" Brendon sneers at Dallon. Suddenly the energy that he had used on the guitar is twice as strong, twice as powerful. The power that is raging inside him feeds off of his anger. It feels good. So. Very. Good. Brendon clenches his fists and looks at Dallon with a steely glare. Dallon cripples underneath it, and he squints his eyes at Brendon, focusing in on the other's eyes. Their eyes are locked, dark brown on hazel. Dallon leans forward, his gaze almost hypnotic. Almost as if the colour is spinning right before him. Brendon breathes out heavily and focuses his gaze harder. Dallon refuses to even blink, and Brendon weakens. Brendon is the first to break away. Dallon's eyes widen in surprise.  
"Bren'...please. Leave Dallon alone, for once? Please?" Ryan. Brendon folds his arms and looks up at Ryan. He's hurt now, really really hurt. This is the first time that Ryan has ever taken somebody else's side over his. That somebody else was a very smug looking Dallon. Suddenly, the hurt manifests into anger, searing through Brendon's blood stream. It's boiling hot, and he feels good again. His powers react to this, and he is strong. He is uncontrollable. He is almighty. The guitar is lifted, and then torn apart into a million tiny little pieces. Brendon's eyes glitter with michief, the warm glow of revenge dancing in his stomach.  
"My powers. My choices." Brendon's final words are spoken. He throws Dallon one final glare, and then he stalks out, throwing the doors open without even touching them.

Ten minutes after his departure, the invasion of the silence still dominates the room. Then, the small pieces of guitar lift slowly and spiral around in the brief shape of its old complete shape. Ryan gazes at the shards as they fix together, the imperfect guitar taking hold. After another two minutes of the hovering pieces arranging then re-arranging themselves, they stop. The guitar has returned, shabby and obviously broken. Ryan lets the pieces fall to the floor again. The silence returns to the room, descending awkwardly upon the two boys. Uninvited. Ryan sighs. The silence broken.  
"I couldn't do it. I'm sorry. I _can't_ do it anymore. I can't clear up after you anymore Brendon."  
Then, the silence forces itself upon the room again. It lingers there for a moment, and then much, much more than a moment. And everything is still, and quiet. The entire of everything comes to a halt, including Ryan. Dallon moves towards Ryan, wincing at the pain in his leg. He puts his head on Ryan's shoulder and murmurs something inaudible. It is clear from this moment onwards, that Dallon's powers most definitely never left.


	3. Chapter 3

Friday the 8th of June 2012.

It truly was a beautiful evening. The sun was hanging by a mere thread in the sky, dying the clouds a pinky-orange, eventually stretching up and out into a faded baby-blue. Jon sits back and takes it all in. Ever since that Monday, his perception on the world has been nothing but how he was going to make it better. With him around, global warming?: deleted. Financial crisis?: deleted. World hunger?: deleted. With all this power he had inside him, why should he stop there? It truly was a limitless void of ideas. For now though, Jon sat back on the bench he had been parked upon for the last half hour. He places his hands complacently into his lap, and sits back carefully on the old wood. Perhaps he ought to think up a superhero name? Perhaps he ought to talk to the guys. He had only returned from his holidays that afternoon, and it was in sunny spain he had first discovered what he could really do. Jon's easy smile spread from ear to ear. They thought he was a hero.

Jon had been absent-mindedly walking by the pool, casually catching a glance at the cute sun-bathing girl, when it had happened. A little spanish girl had been playing in the shallow end of the pool alone when those pricks from the Dutch tents had been careless with that volleyball. The largest, blondest one had been showing off for the two spindly-legged Dutch girls, and he had hit the ball. Hard. Punched it more like. The ball flew towards the now shrieking girl, who winced and held her hands up. But so did Jon. He threw himself in front of the girl and threw his palms up. He froze, he couldn't do it, it would hit him, it would hurt. The end. But a few seconds later he looked up, where was this impending impact?  
"Wha-?" The ball was suspended in mid air, a centimetre from his face. Jon grabbed the ball before anyone assumed him a freak, only for cheers from the sunbathers, and two skinny arms of the little spanish girl thrown around his neck.  
"Gracias Senor! Gracias!" The girl laughed and squeezed him tightly. The cute girl smiled and waved, suddenly very much interested in him. The Dutch boys had already fled the scene, leaving the two Dutch girls to clap and cheer along with the others. Jon got up and blushed, handing the ball over to the little girl, who ran to start a game of catch with the two Dutch girls. He flopped onto the sunbed where his mum pulled out her headphones and smiled wanly at Jon.  
"Did I miss something Hun? I swear I heard clapping..."  
"Nothin' Mum. Nothin' at all." Jon lay back and grinned to himself. Oh what a hero he felt like.

A hero he would be. Jon stood suddenly, the bench creaking due to his weight leaving, and slammed his fist onto his opposite palm. A hero he would be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Monday the 28th of May 2012.**

Ryan was walking to Brendon's. He'd just recieved a text stating that he had to come over, _right now._ The urgency of the italized writing had immediatly appealed to Ryan, as it had been so long since Brendon had really needed anyone. He suspected that Spencer, Jon and Dallon would be on their way over too. Spencer being the first there, they were next-door neighbours after all. Jon would have texted Dallon, and they would have both gone over out of pure curiousity. Though deep down Ryan knew that he was the first one that Brendon had contacted. Even if his friends were there already. Ryan lived further away, and it was hard to come up with reasons to get his Mum to let him out. She was old-fashioned, strict. Ryan was 16 years old, yet his Mum still tried to force him into bed at ten'o'clock. Ryan rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky and let loose a long sigh. He loved his Mum to absolute bits, and he wasn't afraid to state that out loud at the best and the worst of times. So even if it frustrated him that she mollycoddled him, he was fiercely protective of his fussy mother. A loud call interuppted his peaceful thoughts, causing Ryan to stand to attention.

"Ryan! Ryaaaaan! C'mon, you're taking _forever._" The pushy voice was now leaning dangerously out of a top floor window, waving at him. Ryan physically relaxed, and his eyes softened. Brendon. "Alright! Alright!" Ryan laughed, breaking into a run towards the tall, terraced victorian house. "No wait! We'll come down to you, we're heading up to the creek." Brendon disappeared, and Ryan halted in his tracks again.

The _creek?_ Ryan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and his palms became clammy. The last time Ryan had been there was with...well. _Him._ Ryan shook his head, repressing any memories that were threatening to come out. When Brendon eventually came trooping out of the house with Jon, Spencer and Dallon in tow, Ryan shot him a look, almost asking him; _what are you thinking? You know how I feel about going there. _But Brendon just brushed it off and jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Dallon's direction. "_Jon _insisted on bringing him." His voice was low, aimed only at Ryan, but loud enough for Dallon to just catch it. "So I'm leaving him in your care." Ryan sighed and nodded, for there was no point in arguing with someone as stubborn as a mule.

So off they went, marching up the hill on Brendon's street, past many identical houses. Brendon ahead of them all, occasionally calling out to them to "hurry along chaps!" in a fake British accent. Spencer and Jon were huddling together as they shuffled up the hill, whispering in each other's ears and laughing about something hilarious that had happened earlier. They were followed up by Ryan and Dallon, where Ryan was struggling to think of things to say. Technically, before now, they'd only spoken twice. Every now and then he'd steal a look at Dallon, whom was tall and extremely good-looking, so it was making it even harder for Ryan to summon up any words to offer to Dallon. Thankfully, Dallon spoke first, on a subject that Ryan was an expert in. "Is he always like this?" Dallon asked, his husky voice clearly aimed at Ryan. Ryan chuckled. "What? Eccentric, over the top, mysterious? Pretty much." "No..." Dallon paused, sounding a little irritated. "Attention-seeking?" Ryan was taken aback by Dallon's words, almost as if they had reached out and struck him themselves. "I wouldn't say that. I'd just say that he's a little...loud." He managed to reply lamely. "Of course." Dallon smiled a half-smile before turning back to face where Brendon was helping Jon get Spencer over a fallen tree trunk at the grassy/muddy part of the hill. He shrugged and nodded up at the bank where Ryan was expected to climb, gesturing for him to go first. Ryan smiled at Dallon, as he hadn't meant any harm, but his old over-protective ways were shining through, and Ryan couldn't help but defend Brendon. "Thanks. You know, Brendon isn't always like this. He's just an adventure that's all." Ryan offered Dallon his hand, which was accepted gratefully. "I know, but I still think he's mad." Dallon pulled himself up on Ryan's hand, and ended up standing directly in front of him. "However, he has excellent company." Ryan flushed as Dallon's hot breath hit his face. He was about to say something when Brendon called out yet again. "Ryan!" He sing-songed, desparate for his friend's attention. "Where are you? We're about to go through the gateway!" His voice was then accompianed by Spencer's. "Me and Jon are going ahead, but Brendon refuses to move without you! Come on!" Ryan looked up at Dallon, whom was still dangerously close. His hand flew up to the back of his neck to rub down the hairs that were standing on end. He was nervous, and it was a very automatic reaction. Dallon grinned in a friendly way and squeezed Ryan's hand, which he still hadn't let go of. "Let's go and bow down to his lordship then eh?" He said softly, letting go and walking in the direction of the impatient voices. Ryan breathed out quite suddenly, leaving him light-headed. He hadn't realised that he'd been holding his breath up until now. He smoothed down his shirt and proceeded forward through the trees towards Brendon, repressing the thoughts of Dallon for now.

The gateway wasn't actually a gate, it was two trees that with time, had grown and twisted around each other in such a way they were almost like an arch. Someone had planted two rose bushes beneath the arch, so that you had to duck underneath them in order to get through. When Brendon and Ryan had first stumbled upon it when they were much younger, the magic it had held for them was easily the best thing that had ever happened to them, and it had always been featured in many of their fantasy games. Two young princes walking through the grand entrance to the greatest castle of all time, two brave astronauts entering another world, and Ryan's secret personal favourite, the arch underneath where two brothers made a bond to be together forever. In Ryan's head him and Brendon were practically married. The two of them were standing beneath the arch now, grown up and here for a very real, and very different purpose altogether. Dallon, Jon and Spencer had all ducked underneath the bushes, their laughter and hushed talking drowned out by the thick trees and the thin trickling river that lay ahead. Brendon clasped Ryan's hand in his and bit his lip. Ryan's pulse raced at the excitement of being here again, at being with Brendon, at having fun. But beyond these trees was another past, a past that Ryan didn't want to remember. Brendon was stood facing Ryan now, looking scared and a little out of sorts. They were chasing the coat-tails of a rabbit down the rabbit-hole, and although they had been here before, they were on new ground, unfamiliar territory. This gave Ryan a little thrill inside, as he was discovering again with his friend, his brother, his forever. But Brendon's hesitation was because he didn't want to drag Ryan into his past, and Ryan knew that. Bravery of the astronaut's struck Ryan, and with a smile and a squeeze of Brendon's hand he ducked, pulling Brendon with him as he went.


	5. Chapter 5

**Saturday the 9th of June 2012.**

He hated him. Always had. Always will. Dallon knew deep down that his powers were still there, but Brendon insisted on pointing out that they were not being used. He tsk-ed at what Brendon had called it that night, the night they went to the creek. _Magic, Ryan. It's magic. _No. It was science, manipulation of the forces. Dallon sat up straighter, furious that Brendon had dared come into his house and use manipulation right when his father had been next door. He was unstable and dangerous, and it was awful that he was dragging Ryan down with his issues. Ryan. How many times had that name passed through his thoughts since that night? Must have hit a thousand by now. Teenage love was a beautiful thing. Dallon had always known he was into boys from a very early age, but he wasn't into sharing that around. He stayed away from both genders, and in the end that earnt him a celibate reputation, rather than one based around his sexuality. That had all changed when he first met Ryan. It had been the Saturday before the night at the creek, and he had just moved into his new place with his parents and his sister. Ryan and a very stroppy Brendon had shown up at his door, presenting themselves as his new guides and his friends from school. School. God he'd only been there around a week and he was already made to stay at home because he'd gone and hurt his leg. Dallon frowned at the cast that was decorated with a few signatures, none of them Ryan's sadly. Ryan. Again with his name and his face in his mind! That Saturday had been the best of his life. The moment he set his eyes on Ryan's he couldn't feel his heart. Had it truly skipped a beat? Ryan was possibly the cutest and most perfect thing that had ever walked this Earth, and he had just shown up on Dallon's doorstep! Dallon relaxed at the memory as his pulse raced again with recognition of the feelings in Dallon's stomach. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help that Ryan was cute and perfect. What he could help was how Ryan felt about him. Dallon hadn't noticed it at first, but after time he did. As well as telekinesis, each member of the group had two of their own separate powers. Brendon had control over the weather and over electronic products. The sad case, he had been spotted by Dallon muttering into a many pieces of technology, which caused him to lash out in humiliation that he'd been caught talking to himself. Dallon never told anybody though, because amongst all that hate for Brendon, he had a little bit of sympathy lingering there. Spencer could control plant growth and radio waves. It was scary at first when he had blocked the teacher's ears with white noise by accident, but he learnt and he surpressed it. Unlike out-of-control Brendon. Jon, he was unsure of, but it may have been that he could understand other languages as one of his. Ryan could read minds, and he had the power to change the way he looked, almost like shape shifting, but he could only transform into people with the same eye-colour. Ryan had round and perfectly dark brown eyes, so it was hard to find many others with eyes as unique as his, Dallon thought to himself, but it seemed he did fine with any shade of brown lately. As for Dallon, now his powers were something to be proud of. For starters he could freeze time, and not age in the period of which everything and everyone was frozen. His second power was what he was using to make Ryan fall for him. Dallon could control how people felt around him. Whether is be his scent, or his looks, or his voice, Dallon was making Ryan fall in love with him. As had been evident yesterday when he scolded Brendon and took his side. Dallon was amazed and smug all at the same time, because the look on Brendon's face when Ryan sided against him for the first time ever...unmissable! Dallon wished that he could have a camera at the time.

Then the phone rang.

Dallon jumped, wincing as his cast banged against the coffee table in front of him. He stood, and grabbed the cordless phone, bringing it back to the sofa. He tried to sound cheerful.  
"Hello?"  
"H-hey Dallon...It's me." Oh that voice. The voice that had been ringing in his ears since the day they first spoke.  
"Oh...oh! Hello! How are you? What's going on? Where are you?" The babble of questions shot out of Dallon's mouth before he could stop them. He cursed himself for acting like such a fool.  
Ryan laughed, a proper, beautiful laugh. Dallon collapsed onto the sofa, his knees weak at the sound. "I'm fine, honestly. But..."  
But? But? Dallon sat up, worried. "Ryan? What's up?"  
"Oh! Well, I was only calling to ask how _you_ were. Just wondering if you wanted to come round...or something. Or we could go out! I don't care. I just..." He paused. "I want to see you."  
Dallon leant back into the chair, a devilish grin plastered on his face. "Do you now?" He chuckled to himself, overwhelmed with smugness at how Brendon would feel if he heard this. "Well, I'm home alone...if you want to come over?"  
He could _feel _Ryan's heartbeat get quicker. Oh, he could _feel _it. He turned up his powers to maximum, focusing on nothing but Ryan and his heartbeat. "We'd be completely, and utterly, alone." He waited, listening to Ryan's deep breaths.  
"I'll be over in ten minutes." Then the call was cut. Dallon laughed out loud, and went up to his bedroom, where he started making the bed and picking out romantic music. Tonight. He was going to play his move tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Saturday the 9th of June 2012.**

Ryan slammed the phone down onto the table. He fanned himself and ran upstairs to dress. He _had _to look good. He _had _to. He paused at his wardrobe, his hands hovering over the door handles. But why? Why did it matter so much? The thought disappeared as quickly as it arrived. Ryan threw open the doors and threw his hands up into the air, readying his orchestra. He tapped the wardrobe doors for extra effect, and then smiled lightly. Then he began to conduct. One by one, each item of clothing danced out of his wardrobe and around his room, occasionally assembling into outfits, jeans matching with shirts and jackets, vests matched with shorts. They were all in time to some invisible beat, swishing in sweet harmony, all tuned to the same symphony. Black skinny jeans, white shirt, black waistcoat. Perfect! The clothes dropped to the floor, creating mess. For once, oddly enough, Ryan didn't care. He was out the door faster than he had ever run before, ignoring the calls of his Mum. He had to get to Dallon's. _Quickly. _He couldn't hold back the churning in his stomach anymore.

Next thing he knew he was stood on the doorstep of Dallon's house. A semi-detatched affair, a lovely cream colour with stylish black mod-window panes. He hesitates. What was he doing here? Why had he needed to be here so much? Ryan had so many questions, but soon he felt a settling calm wash over him. Was somebody watching him? He could feel eyes boring into the top of his head, but for some reason, he didn't bother looking up. All he could think about was Brendon. That didn't stop him from leaning forward and pressing the doorbell. He heard footsteps, then Dallon calling out to him, then the door was flung open. Ryan was bowled over by the very sight of Dallon. His face suddenly felt very hot, and he was cringing at the lack of shirt Dallon had.  
"H-hi! I, uhm, I...came as quick as I could!" Ryan tumbled over his words as Dallon stepped aside for Ryan to come inside. The churning was there again. He felt ill, but at the same time elated about being in Dallon's presence. He could hear Dallon's voice over and over in his head.  
_you love me you love me you love me.  
_ He did. He loved Dallon. He bit his lip, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth as his teeth sunk into the soft skin. Dallon was walking ahead of him, or limping rather, leading him up the stairs. Ryan tried to speak but he caught himself, knowing that all would come out would be nonsensical rubbish. He was swept into Dallon's room, an L-shaped room with all white walls aside from one which was a dark blue. The furniture was simple and effective, making the room seem bigger than it already was. A simple double bed with a black metal frame, and white covers. A tall black metal wardrobe, with bars over the doors, and glass inbetween them. The black metal desk was in the corner, piled high with books and papers and sketches. Dallon was an artist.  
_you love me you love me you love me. _  
Yes he did. Ryan looked up at Dallon sheepishly, colouring when he saw that he had sat on the bed, patting the covers for Ryan to join him. Ryan sat down, not too close, although it burned his insides that he couldn't be closer. Dallon closed the distance between them, his thigh against Ryan's. Ryan focused as much as he could on the white wall opposite, adorned with a few posters. Smashing Pumpkins. Misfits. Iron Maiden. Typical loud bands. His palms felt clammy, so they were rubbed up and down his legs. The churning was feeling more and more overwhelming, his senses turning to mush. Dallon's voice only made it worse, crippling Ryan as he spoke.  
"So, why are you here, Ryan?" His voice felt warm, inviting, and it pulled Ryan up to look directly into his eyes. Which made it only worse.

But the worst was yet to come.

Dallon put his hand on Ryan's neck, and trailed his fingers up towards Ryan's ear. He leant in and breathed right into his eardrums, whispering three words. "You love me."  
And that was it. Ryan couldn't hold back anymore. He put his hands on Dallon's chest and pushed him back onto the bed, sprawling on top of him. He buried his face in his neck and bit. Dallon moaned out loud, unafraid of Ryan's reaction. The truth was, Ryan loved it. He lifted his body up, his palms either side of Dallon's head, his knees either side of his waist. Dallon's eyes were wild, alive, burning with desire. Ryan fell onto Dallon slowly, careful of his cast. His lips brushed against Dallon's, causing Dallon to part his. Ryan shut his eyes, and kissed him. Hard. However Dallon's were wide open, and he was looking directly at the small video camera hidden on top of the wardrobe. He shuts his eyes, smiling as the kiss was roughened, their tongues fighting viciously. He flips Ryan over, so he's on top. He pushes up Ryan's shirt until it is off, discarded onto the floor. Their skin touches, and Ryan has never felt more alive. Dallon kisses Ryan's lips, neck, chest, stomach. Then back to the lips. It's rough, and fast, but then it's slow. Then he hears him again, Dallon's voice.  
_you're mine. all mine. and Brendon is done. finished.  
_Ryan leaps out from underneath Dallon, pushing him up. It was Dallon's thoughts. Grabbing his shirt he runs down the stairs, where, surprisingly enough, the front door is wide open. Freedom is all Ryan can think about. He drops the shirt, running forward through the hall. But the door slams shut in his face. Panicked, Ryan yanks at the door handle.  
"Brendon!" He screams, pounding his fists on the door. Brendon only lives across the street. He had to be able to hear. "_Brendoooooon!_" Then Dallon wraps his arms around Ryan's chest, and Ryan is under the spell once again. He is trapped. But he yells as much as he can with his mind, throwing everything he can around near Brendon. Dallon leads him back up the stairs.  
_you love me you love me you love me.  
_Yes. Yes he did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Saturday the 9th of June 2012**

Brendon bolts up, wide awake.  
"Ryan?" He throws his head from side-to-side, half expecting Ryan to be standing in his room. Though the matchbox room is so small that for Ryan to fit in here he'd have to be on his bed with him. His cheeks tinge pink at the idea, and he throws his feet over the edge of the bed. He is expecting to look up and see the box/cupboard, and all his books piled high on the shelf. However he is greeted with something much different. Brendon rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand, and looks again. He sees the same as before. Destruction. All the books are across the floor, messed up on the broken shelf, which has fallen. The cupboard is wide open, clothes and video games spilling out. Brendon stands, furious as what vile person could have done this. He sits again a minute later. A tear rolls down his cheek. Dallon was right. He really didn't have his powers under control. He'd done this. Breaking the shelf his uncle had lovingly put up just for him, to make up for the fact that his dad really wasn't coming home. The tears are coming hot and fast now. But his head hurts, he realises. The windows slowly unlock, and they open even more slowly. Brendon leans out of the window, breathing in the cool evening air. An electronic shout comes from a house down the street, followed by chanting.  
"Crazy party-goers." He mutters. But something feels very very wrong. He leans out further, squinting down the long street, in the direction of Dallon's house. The chanting gets louder.  
"HE'S GOT RYAN. HE'S GOT RYAN. HE'S GOT RYAN." Brendon would be able to recognise that voice anywhere, it was Dallon's TV in his gamesroom. It occasionally yelled out across the street, and he'd heard it when he was round Dallon's yesterday. Brendon is just beginning to consider if different tech really did have different voice types, when it hits him exactly what that damned dino-TV just said. HE'S. GOT. RYAN.  
Brendon's upper lip lifts slightly at the corner, and a small growl emmits from his chest. Dallon was going to get it. Brendon leaps out of the open window, and lands in the front garden in a crouch. He rolls forward, standing up. He runs to the street, the adrenaline beginning to get higher and higher in his bloodstream. He was going to murder Dallon if he was hurting Ryan. Ryan was the best thing that had ever happened to Brendon, ever. He was kind and caring and mature and smart and everything that Brendon wasn't. He brought Brendon back down to Earth with a crash, or even a small thud if he was calm enough. A memory pierced Brendon's data banks. _Don't run too fast on the wall Brendon, you could fall and then you could get hurt! - Chill out Ry, I got this! - /crash/ - I told you so! There, don;t cry, I'll kiss it better. There. Want to go back to your uncle? I won't tattle. But only if you promise not to walk on that wall ever again. - I promise. You're my best friend in the whole wide world Ryan. - And you're mine! C'mon let's go! _...and off they'd run, hand in hand, the soreness on Brendon's knee almost vanishing. Turns out kissing had medical value after all. Ryan was a worrier, and he was gentle and brave. But he could become fragile, and Dallon was taking advantage as Brendon ran up the front garden's path._  
_Brendon wasn't evil, Brendon wasn't crazy. But he sure was angry, and his temper flared up at the images he had of Dallon hurting Ryan. He found himself outside Dallon's front door, a showy red affair, where he lifted up a palm, throwing the door outwards without a sound. He needed the element of surprise. He jumped into the air, using his telekinesis as best as possible to keep him suspended there. To his surprise - it worked. He flew up the stairs towards the bedroom, where he peeked round the door, which was just ajar enough for him to fit through. The sight that hit him was disgusting.  
Dallon was sat on top of Ryan, straddling his waist. He was fiddling with Ryan's belt, hurrying to remove it. Ryan was just laying there, glassy-eyed but obviously pained. Brendon just hurt, all over. Ryan was his forever, and Dallon was trying to rip that away.

The first thing Brendon did was land on his feet, startling Dallon. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his eyes burning red. He shut his eyes and focused. The second thing he did was lift Dallon with his mind's arms, and throw him out the window, shattering the glass. Brendon opened his eyes, breathing out slowly and calmly. Dropping his arms, Brendon stumbled back slighty, rubbing his forehead with his hands. The third thing he did was right himself and walk slowly over to the bed, then to lift an unconsious Ryan up into his recently toned arms, and carry him up and away. Up the street, the hill, the grassy bank. To the gateway. The fourth thing he did was set Ryan down, who appeared to be having a fit. Panicked, Brendon shook Ryan's shoulders. The tears started then, and he choked as he felt himself shake with hard and loud cries that just kept coming louder and louder.  
"Wake up Ryan!" He yelled through sobs. "Please...Ryan...wake up!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Monday the 28th of May 2012**

_Wow._ It was all that Spencer could think in that moment. _WOW._  
Brendon hadn't been lying. The crater was a crazy, neon, fuck-ass green. Spencer smiled, his dimples creasing in either cheek, Brendon had always had such a way with his words. As if on cue, Brendon and Ryan came crashing through the bushes, collapsing in a brotherly heap, hand-in-hand. Spencer laughed at how flustered they both obviously were, but how the uncontrollable giggles were trying as hard as they could to break through. But then Ryan saw the crater. Still glowing green, Spencer confirmed out of the corner of his eye. Spencer felt his arm being gripped by an excited Brendon.  
"I so told you guys! Didn't I? I did. I did." He seemed completely unfazed by the fact that there was something really, really weird happening here.  
"Uh, Brendon...?" Jon cut in, as Brendon began walking towards the crater, and _into _it. Pulling a very bemused Spencer with him. Spencer laughed nervously, trying to release himself from Brendon's vice-like grip. but he was trapped.  
"Brendon. Hey. _Hey._" He said in alarm, shaking his arm a little. The grip only tightened, hurting him. Since when had Brendon been so strong? The next thing Spencer knew, he was up in the air. Then he was right slap-bang in the middle of the crater on his back, he shut his eyes, half-expecting his skin to melt away. But it didn't. If anything. His skin felt...good. Then tingly. Then bad. Then _very _bad.  
_ "SHIT FUCK WANK JESUS OH GOD OH GOD! BRENDON! MAKE IT STOOOOOP!" _Spencer cried out in pain as his muscles contracted and tightened, doing their best to stretch and expand and quite possibly...break and tear through his skin. Then Spencer screamed. It was the most dreadful, loud, terrifying, spine-chilling howl that Spencer had ever heard, and he couldn't believe it was him that had just uttered it.

Then it went black.

When Spencer awoke gasping he was on his back, Ryan's fists crushing into his chest repeatedly.  
"Oh God! You're awake!" Ryan yelled out, his entire body falling into Spencer's chest. "Oh sweet, sweet Heartbeat." Ryan whispered into his chest, speaking to his pulse. "Don't ever leave me again."  
"See! I told you!" Brendon called out pointing at Spencer, tears streaming down his cheeks in joy. "It happened to me last night when I came down here. I feel fantastic! Never more alive! It made me-"  
He was unable to finish his sentence due to Ryan punching him repeatedly in the chest, shoulder and stomach.  
"You. Ass. Hole!" He gasped out, each word delivering one punch harder until Brendon caught his fists and looked into his eyes.  
"Hey, hey. I may be an asshole, but I have _never_ broken my promises." Ryan didn't reply, aside from pressing his forehead to Brendon's. "Now come on, let me show you what has really happened to me and Spence'."  
Brendon crossed over to Spencer, letting go of Ryan, whom stumbled as soon as Brendon's grip had been released. Brendon offered Spencer his hand, and helped him stand on wobbly legs. Jelly legs. Where were his bones? Spencer freaked out for a minute, holding onto Brendon's neck.  
"Where my bones have gone, Brennnnnnnnnduhhhhmm?" That didn't sound like Spencer. That wasn't his voice. Was it? The slur of his words tumbled out mockingly, not arranging themselves correctly. He sounded drunk. Like, really drunk. Like, head-cheerleader-realising-she-was-a-lesbian-so-her-infamous-jock-boyfriend-was-sexually-frustrated-and-she-was-disgusted-by-him-and-if-she-broke-up-with-him-her-popularity-would-shrivel-and-die drunk. He giggled. Then he wobbled again.

Then his head cleared as Brendon's left hand raised towards Spencer. The slap was hard and sharp, and would have nearly taken him right off his feet had Brendon not supported him with one hand on each shoulder. Spencer grabbed Brendon's wrists and blinked twice.  
"Am I dead?" He croaked, his vision clearing and his head beginning to focus on his surroundings. And his bones had returned. That was good too. Brendon then spun him to face the little river/stream that ran directly through the middle of the creek, which ran northward until it broke through the trees into the mini-waterfall that led to the main river through the town. Nearing these trees were a few rocks and boulders all piled up. They were all blocking off the waterfall. _So nobody could fall_, Spencer guessed. _Didn't stop Ryan's Dad from falling down there though. _Brendon shook him, halting his thought process.  
"Focus! Spencer. You are _not_ dead. Now I want you to look at that little rock at the front there. See it?" Brendon pointed, and Spencer nodded. "I want every little part of you - no - I want your entire _being_ to focus on that rock there. Your heart, your mind, your soul, your skin, bones, muscles. Everything. I want nothing else to matter to you, apart from that rock." He gripped Spencer's shoulders in anticipation, and Spencer swallowed some built-up saliva in his mouth in response. He could feel waves in the air, and the ground beneath his feet suddenly felt a lot more green, and warm. It was moving, goddammit. But Spencer didn't have time for that, so he looked at the rock as instructed. At first he just stared, taking in everything the rock had to offer on appearance. But then the rock was staring back. Spencer accepted what the rock was giving him, and he threw everything he could offer inside and out back at the rock. He could feel waves tingling in the air again, tingling, changing. But the rock stayed still, so Spencer did as well. Soon everyone was gone. It was only Spencer and the rock. And Spencer kept his gaze steady, even when his muscles tightened slightly, and a warm feeling in his stomach built up and up and up. Like bubbles. They built up and rushed out into his arms, his wrists, his palms, and finally his fingertips. A voice, from the distance, began whispering to Spencer. His gaze held steady. Even when the voice got closer, and closer, and closer, until...  
"Lift." Said Brendon.  
So he did.  
The rock flew into the air, light as a feather in Spencer's reached out arms. Though he wasn't touching the rock. It was actually soaring high into the air. Higher and higher. Spencer broke into a sweat and panicked, dropping the rock. The rock began to fall at an alarming speed, and the gang scattered. The rock hit the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces. The five boys had spread around the crater, where the rock had landed. The pieces then continued to disentegrate into green ash, which fluttered away into the wind.

"Wow." Said Spencer, as each member of the gang clambered into the crater.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sunday 4th of September 2011.**

"Dad! Hey, come on! Me and Brendon are already up here, we're gonna go through okay?" Ryan's voice rang out loud and clear down the hill, where his father, George Ross II was wheezing and trudging towards them. Although the crinkles upon his brow, the greying upon his locks and the dark purple smudges under his eyes suggested how overworked and tired he was, his eyes still twinkled and the corners of his mouth stretched outwards.  
"No, no. I'm here, don't worry! Now come on boys, let's see this clubhouse of yours!" He put his fists on his hips and looked down on the two boys.  
They exchange a look that suggested they thought George Ross II was out of his mind.  
"What?" He asked, hints of bewilderment and at the same time amusion at whatever telepathic messages the two of them were sending to each other. His smile grew wider when Brendon and Ryan rolled there eyes and folded their arms, mock-exasperation. "What?"  
"Dad. Seriously?" Ryan sighed, hand on hip. "We're fifteen. Clubhouses are _so _young."  
Ryan's dad smirked, folding his arms over his chest. "...and you can vouch for him, eh Brendon?"  
Brendon nodded eagerly. "Oh yes Mister Ross! See, we're _adults_."  
George swallowed back a laugh and bit his tongue. "Right! Of course you two are. Much more grown up than I am anyway. So where is it we're going?"  
The two boys exchanged another look, this time ones of glee and excitement, which filled George's heart fit to burst. He loved how close the two of them were. Their personalities complimented each other and Brendon made Ryan important.  
Not that Ryan wasn't important anyway. He was a shining star amongst dim lights. Brendon had just helped him to shine even better, and now he had friends and confidence. Brendon had given him a gift in George's eyes. Brendon was like a second son to him, and he loved what he had to offer.  
"Just through there Mister Ross! Be careful though, the rose bushes sometimes scratch, and it kinda hurts." Brendon gestured in the direction of the gate, and George winced at the image in his mind of how he would have to bend down and crawl through. His back had already seized up once today, and he didn't want it to happen again.  
Just looking at Ryan's lit up face motivated him forwards, and he crouched down and slid underneath the bushes. Brendon had been right - they prickled. He had made it through though, and soon he was standing upright in the most beautiful clearing he'd ever seen. He was stood just inside a circle of trees, in what appeared to be a miniature meadow. To his left was a little stream that ran green as opal, and grass so pure. Everything looked so untouched and perfect, almost as if the entire world was blocked out and there was nothing to disturb this perfect piece of land. About a hundred yards in front of him was a pile of rocks, which he knew had the waterfall behind it. George stretched and his back cracked, he warned himself to be careful around those rocks, they could be slippery.

He turned when he saw Ryan and Brendon tumble through the bushes out of the corner of his eye. They were holding onto each other, laughing and tripping over loose laces and awkward teenage legs. They were blushing and jostling each other, eye alight with excitement. Brendon's large glasses were knocked askew and he corrected them, which caused bouts of teasing on Ryan's part. George grinned.  
"Come on boys! Let's go and have a good time!"

The afternoon was spent with the three of them just relaxing and having fun. They paddled in the stream - which Ryan and Brendon insisted they were not too old for, even if they claimed they were adults. Sandwiches were eaten, races were run, butterflies were chased, trees were climbed. George felt as though he were young again, back before that blasted factory had given him shift work. He was tired, and he was going to pretend that work didn't exist. For now he was having a good time with the boys, and not having a care in the world. He wasn't worried about work, about bills, about his estranged wife, or the roof that had started leaking. Until Ryan decided to go for another climb.  
"Dad! Dad! _Dad!_" Ryan's voice called out to his sunbathing father.  
"Oh let me be boy! I've chased you all around this place! Surely you haven't got yet another quest for me?" George opened one eye, then stood up in a frenzied panic, almost causing himself vertigo.  
"Ryan get down from there! It could be dangerous! You too, Brendon. Come on guys, you could hurt yourselves!" He protested, the sight of his son and his son's companion climbing the rocks sending a chilly fear down his spine.  
"Come on Dad! It isn't that bad! See? Not slippery at all. We are totally safe. Why don't you come join us?" Ryan pleaded with his round eyes, the colour and shape of maltesers. George loved maltesers, and Ryan was lucky enough to not have been _named _malteser.  
"C'mon Mister Ross! It's fun, but it'll be more fun with you!" Brendon called and waved him over. George crumpled and followed then, because it was enough to know that Ryan and his friends wanted to include his old Dad. It was enough to tempt him up those dastardly rocks, putting his feet and hands in impossible places, and using all the strength he could possibly muster to reach the top, where Ryan and Brendon were sat cautiously, holding hands as discretly as possible. They both seemed a little nervous of the height, but when George sat and joined them he had to see why they were staying up here.

The view was incredible. It stretched far out, all the way to the horizon. Past the streets and the shopping complex and the park. It seemed to go all the way to the end of the Earth, right where the sun had begun to fall down. George was stunned by this beauty, almost as much as he had been stunned when he first laid eyes on Ryan's mother. Tears welled in his eyes slightly, and he shuffled round Brendon, who courteously moved out of his way. He sat between the two boys and put his arms around the both of them. The sky was dyed all the colours that George could ever think of, even ones inbetween that he couldn't name. And it was perfect, and beautiful, and everything else it ever could be and would be.  
The trio sat like this for a while, taking in the sights and the sounds that the world had to offer. But then the sun had fully sunk into the ground, and it was getting dark. Ryan stood shakily, fearful of falling over, but his father grabbed him by the arm, steadying him. He smiled and squeezed his son's arm lightly.  
"I love you so much Ryan, okay? Even if I am beginning to rust a little. Thank you for bringing me here." He said softly, turning to Brendon as well. "Thank you, to both of you."  
Ryan's eyes misted over and he squeezed back. "I love you too, Dad. It was my honour."  
Brendon stood as well, and gave George a quick squeeze on the shoulder as he passed, heading towards Ryan to help him down. George patted his hand and looked up at him as he went by. "Thank you, for looking after my boy. You're a good person Brendon. A little rough around the edges, but a good person." Brendon smiled, shining at the compliment. Simple, yet it was to mark him for life.  
"I'll always look after him Mister Ross, it's no problem at all." With that he stepped down. Ryan called up as soon as him and Brendon reached the ground. "You coming Dad?"

What was to follow happened in a matter of minutes. George Ross II stood and brushed his trousers down, riddening himself of the dirt that had smeared them. The small leather bracelet that Ryan has made for him in preschool falling off, just to a rock nearer the waterfall. It was George's most treasured possesion, and he felt quite limber at that moment. Limber enough to take a crazy risk like climb down and pick up the bracelet. He had slid down and retrieved the bracelet in seconds. Ryan's head bobbed over the edge.  
"Dad? What are you doing? Be careful down there!" Ryan said, worry dancing across his features. George laughed lightly, a throaty laugh that made Ryan weaken.  
"I'm fine! Just grabbing this old thing, here, you grab it. Then I can climb up and we can go home." He looked up at Ryan, and now Brendon who appeared. He reached out and passed the bracelet, perching on his toes. The rock was extremely slippery. As soon as Ryan had taken the bracelet, George lost his footing.

He fell.

And he fell.

And he fell.

Crash. His body landed in an awful, twisted position at the bottom of the waterfall, mangled amongst sharp rocks, his heart pumping his blood and his life out of his broken neck and his broken limbs. Everything went bright white for George. But then it went black. Then it went horribly, awfully, emptily black.

Ryan screamed. It was the only thing he knew how to do then. No words could come out of his mouth apart from the screams. The tears fell fast and furious, and he tried to jump. Tried to fall to his Dad. Cradle him. Make him better. But Brendon pulled him back and wrestled with him until he collapsed onto his knees with Brendon. Brendon pulled Ryan in close, burying Ryan's face in his neck. His chin resting on his head, his chest rising upwards and down with each loud sob that he himself let out. Ryan's dad had practically been his family too. Ryan howled into Brendon, clutching onto him, digging his nails into Brendon's back.  
"_NO. NO. NO! THAT WAS MY DAD. DAAAAD!" _He cried. A cry that would haunt the both of them forever more. "No no no no no...nooooo...Dad...no...Oh God please. I never ask you for anything...ever...no please. Let this be a dream." Ryan sobbed noisily.

Since that day, Ryan has refused to take off the bracelet.  
Since that day, Brendon has refused to leave Ryan's side. Defending him and getting into trouble for him. Keeping a promise for his father.  
Since that day, Ryan and Brendon have not been to the creek, apart from Monday the 28th of May.  
Since that day, Ryan cannot bring up his father's name.

He was to later write a song, and pick up his father's old guitar.


End file.
